


Impulse

by Felixbug



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 16:21:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4228653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felixbug/pseuds/Felixbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It was an intense kiss – a kiss that took his breath away and left him weak at the knees. He could taste Anders’ fear and loss – but there was desire too, and he curled his hands in Hawke’s shirt and held him as if he never wanted to let go. Hawke’s lips parted with a soft grunt, and Anders moaned softly against him as their mouths moved together, wet and hot and urgent. Hawke’s blood still ran hot from the confrontation, and it took so little to take him from fury to arousal as Anders’ fingers found his nipples through his shirt.</i> </p><p>Rough sex and angst in the Chantry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impulse

**Author's Note:**

> This definitely fits into the Breaking the Silence series... but not yet. I'm not disciplined enough to write in order :P It only references canon events though (or my version of them, at least), and works fine on it's own. Written for #JusticePositive.
> 
> Set between Act 2 and Act 3 of DA2, Hawke/Anders/Justice established relationship - warnings for explicit rough sex and some angst.

Garrett Hawke had never punched an old woman. He was not going to start today. Not under any circumstances.

He held onto that thought with an iron grip as Elthina spoke – of criminals rooted out, of the danger to the city of mages running loose. She didn’t want to hear about the innocent families caught up in the raids – that was _a matter to discuss with the Templars_ – nor did she want to discuss the conditions in the Gallows that had made the Mage Underground so vital.

“Your dealings with these apostates are no secret, Serah Hawke,” she said with a serene smile. “When there is mage trouble, I note you are often present. I will pray that you find guidance and peace.”

“I don’t need _guidance,_ ” Hawke spat. “And if you want peace you’ll rein in the Templars before they tear this city apart.”

“It seems that mages and Templars alike are bent on causing chaos.” She sighed sadly. “It is not my place to intervene.”

“Then whose is it?” Hawke tried to lower his voice as he heard the echo of his fury reflected back to him. “Meredith won’t back down, Orsino has no power, Aveline…” He felt a hot, tight ball of fury in his chest. “Does what Meredith tells her, apparently. Do I have to go to the _fucking Divine_?”

“You are in a Chantry, Serah Hawke.” Elthina fixed him with a steely glare. “I am aware you have little regard for the Maker, but please, show respect for those of us who do His work.”

Hawke gave up trying to control his rage – and his grief. He had known several of those killed. Not as many as Anders and Justice had known – but enough. The Mage Underground was almost a family to Anders and this – they had expected danger. They had expected that there would be deaths. The net had been closing on them for too long and they had made their peace with that – but no one had expected the sheer brutality of the Templars when they made their move. No one had expected that in one raid, Meredith would destroy everything they had created.

“The Maker’s work? Templars kicking in the doors in the middle of the night, executing people in the street based on accusations and rumours? Darktown sealed off for _days_ – no food, no healing supplies allowed in – while the Chantry’s personal army searches for every last hopeless pocket of resistance? I know you think the Maker hates mages but does he hate their families? Their children? The poor bastards who just happen to live nearby?” Hawke shook his head. “This is an injustice – you _know_ that, you just don’t care.”

Hawke stormed away, his nails biting into his palms. It wasn’t always like this – he and Elthina aggravated each other endlessly, and Hawke would happily make a mockery of everything she believed in, smirking as he paid her beliefs as much respect as she granted his. Their relationship was hostile, but this went beyond that – he was desperate. Not just for mages – but for Anders.

He was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Neither of them had expected any help – and really, what could Elthina do? Even if she promised to control the Templars, the damage was done. Anders’ work had come to nothing. He would have to start from scratch – the manifesto was his last hope at a peaceful solution, and privately even Hawke doubted it could change anything at this point. Hawke expected him to be broken – the memory of his fear and grief, and of Justice’s, still fresh in his mind. He hadn’t expected Anders to pull him close and kiss him hard.

It was an intense kiss – a kiss that took his breath away and left him weak at the knees. He could taste Anders’ fear and loss – but there was desire too, and he curled his hands in Hawke’s shirt and held him as if he never wanted to let go. Hawke’s lips parted with a soft grunt, and Anders moaned softly against him as their mouths moved together, wet and hot and urgent. Hawke’s blood still ran hot from the confrontation, and it took so little to take him from fury to arousal as Anders’ fingers found his nipples through his shirt.

“Take me home?” Anders murmured, and Hawke nodded breathlessly.

They almost made it – half way to the door Anders’ grip on Hawke’s hand suddenly tightened, and Hawke found himself pushed up against the wall. Anders’ eyes met his and – oh Maker this was _bad_ – they flickered with a sudden shimmer of blue.  

“Love – careful,” he gasped, and he felt the hum of tension gather in the air. They didn’t have long.

Hawke looked left – nothing – then right. A storage room was within reach. The door was locked but no one was close enough to hear the crack as Hawke knocked it off his hinges and pulled Anders – Justice – the two of them inside. He propped the door back in place and turned to him.

“Anders?” he said. “Or – Justice? This is the Chantry – not the best place to be seen glowing.”

Justice – it was definitely Justice, Hawke recognised the deep rumble in his growl – effortlessly pinned Hawke against the wall. He was breathing heavily, the cracks on his skin spreading as he stared down into Hawke’s eyes. One hand flattened against Hawke’s chest, the other slid up to cup his cheek. He was as gentle as he needed to be but no more, his strength holding Hawke firmly in place.

“You fight for us,” he growled. “There is no one left. There is no one left to speak for the cause of mages except for _us_ – and you stand at our side.”

“Always.”

“I did not wish to wait.” Justice’s fingers sparked faintly against Hawke’s skin, and Hawke bit back a groan. “I do not care for caution any longer. This city will kill us all and I will _not_ hide in the shadows until it does.”

“We’re not giving up yet.”

Justice stepped forward, shifting his hand from Hawke’s chest to brace against the wall as he brought their lips close, but not quite touching. He was breathing heavily, his glow so bright Hawke wondered if it would be seen around the door – but Maker help him, this was tempting enough to make him forget _wise_ or _cautious_ for a moment. What he and Anders had with Justice defied everything the Chantry stood for – he wanted to defy them _here,_ defile their holy ground. He nodded, and Justice growled in response.

As Justice spun him around and pinned his hands above his head, Hawke wasn’t sure if it was more offensive to the Chantry that he loved these men, or that he would let them fuck him against a wall in this sacred place. He knew it wasn’t worth it for a statement no one but them could know about – he knew all three of them were risking their lives for a quick fumble in a dark corner – but they were all shaken, all in need of comfort. They needed to know that they could still resist.

Justice jerked Hawke’s trousers down around his hips, and kneaded his ass with a gasp against his shoulder. He was hard –Hawke could feel the outline of his cock pressed against his leg as Justice withdrew his hand, and moments later oil trickled down into the cleft of Hawke’s ass.

“Do you consent?” Justice said.

“Yeah – but… this needs to be quick. Quiet.” Hawke bit his lip as two of Justice’s fingers groped for his entrance, and slowly slid inside. “Don’t drag it out.”

“I could not if I tried.”

They both knew they shouln’t talk – it was too risky, especially with the loud rumble of Justice’s voice. They rocked together in silence, Justice’s throbbing length confined by layers of fabric as he rolled his hips and panted harshly, and Hawke pushed back against the steady push of Justice’s fingers. They worked him open – rough, hurried thrusts as he scissored and twisted them, leaving Hawke gasping.

Hawke turned his head to press his face against his arm. The fabric of his shirt muffled his needy whine as Justice’s fingers withdrew, smearing oil over the back of his thigh as Justice positioned himself behind him. His grip was bruisingly tight around Hawke’s wrists, and Hawke could hear the wet sounds of him slicking his cock and the patter of falling oil against the stone floor.

Justice gave him little warning – he knocked Hawke’s legs further apart with a low rumble, lined his cock up against his entrance, and slammed his full length into him. Hawke stifled a scream against his arm – it felt good, _Maker,_ it felt incredible, but there was a little pain too. He burned around the thickness of Justice’s shaft, stretched and filled and shaking as he held his breath and listened for approaching footsteps. None came, and Justice’s oil-coated hand pressed over his mouth.

“Silent,” Justice snarled against his ear. His grip was bruising Hawke’s wrists, grinding them against the unyielding stone, and his fingernails dug into Hawke’s cheek. Hawke’s breaths came fast and ragged through his flared nostrils, eyes wide and thighs trembling, as Justice brought his lips in closer. His breath ghosted over the shell of Hawke’s ear, making him whine breathlessly.

“If this is too much…” Justice still sounded too loud in the tranquil silence of the Chantry. “Your left foot,” he murmured, barely controlling the deep rumble of his voice. “Nudge it against mine.” He shifted so his foot was almost touching Hawke’s, then sank his teeth into his shoulder through his shirt, and began to thrust.

There was never any question of Hawke wanting to stop – Justice took him roughly, with brutal thrusts that jarred his spine and ground his wrists against the wall. His teeth bruised the skin as he mouthed wetly at his shirt, muffling snarls and grunts as his hard, slick length pounded into Hawke’s ass. Pleasure and pain mingled, overwhelming Hawke’s eager body as he pushed back against every thrust and mouthed silent pleas for more against Justice’s palm. Their feet scuffed in the dust, the buckles on Justice’s coat jangled, and neither could quite keep silent. Hawke’s broken cries were crushed under Justice’s palm, he could only keen shakily as he trembled under the onslaught, and Justice’s own harsh growls were barely stifled as his teeth bruised Hawke’s shoulder.

He could have lost them both. Hawke had barely dared to think it – he’d been comforting Anders, calming Justice, fighting Elthina. But with the thick plunge of Justice’s cock and the bite of his nails in his cheek to blame for his pained whimper, he let himself think it – if only for a moment. They were all he had, and any day the Templars could take them too. Hawke’s eyes watered as Justice’s teeth burrowed into his flesh and angled his thrusts to brush the sensitive place inside him. It wasn’t enough – it was hot and intense and left him shaking, but he could still _think._

Hawke twisted in Justice’s grip, slamming back against him until Justice gave him more – sharp, vicious thrusts that stung his skin from the impact. He could feel his ass reddening, the slick leak of the oil running down his legs and the bite of his waistband around his thighs as Justice plunged between his cheeks, fucking him with all his strength, all his desperation. Justice’s hand over his mouth was shaking, and as his teeth closed on Hawke’s bare neck, he choked on a sound that was almost a sob.

Hawke felt Justice’s cock throb, twitch, and Justice rammed it deep as hot, sticky come spilled inside him. There was no time to savour it, for Justice to thrust through the aftershocks. He pulled out of him with a muffled groan, leaving the skin between his cheeks slick with thick, glowing trails as he spun Hawke around and pushed him back against the wall again.

“Silent,” Justice reminded him, and dropped to his knees.

The loss of the hand over his mouth almost made Hawke whimper – he missed it, missed the pain and the pressure and the unavoidable closeness of it. He wanted to be held, wanted to feel Justice’s warmth and strength and know that he and Anders were _here_. He bit down on the side of his own hand, head thrown back against the wall as Justice took his cock into his mouth and thrust two fingers roughly into his clenching, leaking hole.

He was no less rough on his knees, no less desperate having found his own release. His fingers curled and sparked as he jerked his hand sharply, his teeth rasped against Hawke’s flushed, rigid shaft, and he sucked hard as his tongue swept over the wet slit. Hawke’s teeth dug into his hand – and he relished the bruises that would come – and he let his other hand tangle in the blue-haloed mass of Justice’s blond hair. Justice gripped his hips, took Hawke deep, and the coiled tension inside him broke. He jerked back and came into the wet heat of Justice’s mouth, bucking against his tongue as mingled fluids trickled from between Justice’s stretched, spit-slicked lips.

Justice looked up for a moment – eyes wide, hands shaking where he gripped Hawke’s hips – and then he was gone, leaving Anders in his place.

“We should get out of here,” Hawke gasped. Anders wiped his mouth on the back of his hand as he stood and kissed him hard, cupping Hawke’s face and holding him close as if he was all that mattered.

They left, adjusting clothing and leaving the broken door propped against the wall – and for once, the apathy and ignorance of the Chantry was in their favour. They escaped unseen, and when they made it back to Hawke’s estate it was Anders who tore at Hawke’s clothes, Anders who made it as far as the bedroom but not the bed, and Anders’ nails that bit into his skin as Hawke fucked him on the floor, kissing him hard enough to drown out the world.


End file.
